Chapter 103
-Alex’s POV-
Blaming it all on my wolf, on the heightened emotions that had turned my insides into a churning mess, didn’t make the sting of my words to Amaya any less sharp. The moment I walked away from her, the emptiness that had been a dull ache moments ago roared back to life, a gaping hole in my chest.
Watching Ivan appear at her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her as he steered her away, solidified the reality in my gut. She was gone. I had chased shadows, fueled by a desperate need to feel something, anything, other than the chilling indifference that had settled over me. And now, with my declaration of war hanging heavy in the air, there was no turning back. We had been fighting before, yes, but this was different. This was a line that had been crossed, a bridge that had been burned.
Picking up the glass of amber liquid in my hand, I took a long, slow drink, the liquor burning a familiar path down my throat. My gaze drifted out the window, unseeing. The image that burned behind my eyelids was far more vivid – the dead wolves sprawled across the cold concrete floor, their fur matted with blood. The metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils, a phantom sensation that refused to fade.
Yet, amidst the carnage, there was no flicker of satisfaction. Daniel was still alive. He was out there, breathing, plotting his next move, while loyal wolves, wolves lay lifeless on the floor. The thought scraped against my already raw nerves.
“That was a very considerate move, declaring war when I was still in the room, fiancé.” Miranda’s voice, dripping with disdain, sliced through
the silence of the room.
I didn’t bother turning to face her. Dealing with her right now was the last thing I needed. “Not now, Miranda,” I growled, the words rough in my throat.
But she was never one to back down from a fight. It simply wasn’t in her nature. “You could have at least told me you were planning on giving that order,” she countered, her voice laced with a sharp edge. “I could have been prepared.”
Anger flared within me, hot and sudden. Turning towards her, I met her gaze head–on, my jaw clenched tight. “I saw you leave before it even started,” I snapped. “Don’t add to this, Miranda. I’m not in the mood for your games.”
She rolled her eyes dismissively, but instead of pushing the issue, she simply settled into the chair across from me. “Well at least pour me a
drink.
Our gazes clashed for a moment and then, I walked towards the bar, and the only sound in the room was the clinking of ice against glass as i poured her a drink, the familiar amber liquid swirling in the crystal tumbler.
She took the glass from me with a surprised blink, a rare vulnerability flickering across her usually composed face. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a mask of indifference. She settled back in the chair, the silence returning thicker than before.
We stayed there for what felt like hours, both of us staring out the window at the world outside. The first fat raindrops began to splatter against the glass, quickly escalating into a heavy downpour. The rhythmic drumming of the rain on the roof filled the room, a monotonous counterpoint to the turmoil raging inside me.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced, a fragment from a long–forgotten past.
I stared up at the sky as the first drops of rain splashed against my face. Turning to my mother, I pointed a finger upwards. “Where does the rain come from?” I asked, my voice filled with childish wonder. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite the dark circles that shadowed her eyes. “Where do you think it comes from?” she echoed back, her voice a soft melody that danced on the wind.
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“Someone is upset and crying from the sky?” I offered, my brow furrowed in concentration.
Despite the exhaustion etched on her face, a genuine laugh escaped her lips, the sound warm and comforting. She knelt down to my eye level, her smile reaching all the way to the crinkles around her eyes. “Rain isn’t someone crying, silly,” she explained patiently. “It’s actually the sun and the ocean playing a giant game together.”
My brow furrowed in concentration. “The sun and the ocean?” I repeated, trying to wrap my head around this new information. “But the sun is way up in the sky, and the ocean is all the way over there,” I protested, gesturing vaguely towards the distant horizon.
She chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that seemed to carry on the gentle breeze. “That’s true,” she admitted, “but they’re still friends, you see? The sun shines down hot on the ocean, making the water want to jump up and touch him.”
I gasped, my imagination sparked. “So the water jumps up?”
“Exactly!” she said, her voice filled with amusement. “But the sun is too far away for the water to reach him, so it gets a little frustrated. It keeps trying and trying to jump high enough, but it just keeps falling back down.”
My eyes widened. “Like me trying to jump and touch the ceiling?”
“Just like that!” she confirmed, her smile widening. “But all those tiny drops of water jumping together, they make a big difference. They rise up high in the sky, like a million tiny bubbles, and they form big, fluffy clouds.”
“Like cotton candy?” I interrupted, my eyes sparkling with delight.
She laughed again. “Sort of like cotton candy,” she agreed. “But these clouds are full of all that water that jumped up from the ocean. And then, something amazing happens.”
I leaned in closer, captivated by her story. “What happens?”
“The clouds get so full of water, they get too heavy to hold it all in anymore,” she explained. “So the water starts to spill back down to the earth, and that’s when it rains!”
My head bobbed up and down in understanding. “So the rain is like the ocean crying because it can’t reach the sun?”
My mother shook her head gently. “Not exactly crying” she corrected. “The ocean isn’t sad, it’s happy to share its water with the earth. The rain helps the plants grow tall and strong, and it gives the animals something to drink. It’s like a big game of sharing.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the pitter–patter of the rain on the leaves around us. The gentle breeze ruffled my hair, carrying the sweet scent of wet earth. As the rain picked up its pace, drumming a steady rhythm on the roof of the house, a new feeling washed over me- a feeling of pure contentment.
Suddenly, an urge to be closer to my mother overwhelmed me. I scrambled off the bench and into her lap, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Her arms wrapped around me instinctively, holding me tight. The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through my clothes and turning my hair into plastered strands. But I didn’t care. Here, in my mother’s embrace, I felt safe and warm, protected from the world outside.
A sniffle reached my ears, a wet sound that seemed to mingle with the drumming of the rain. I lifted my head slightly, peering up at my mother’s face. Her eyes were glistening, tears tracing shiny paths down her cheeks. But her lips were still curved in a sad smile, a smile that seemed to hold a million unspoken emotions.
Even at my young age, there was something about her expression that tugged at my heartstrings. Without fully understanding why, I knew she was sad. Maybe it was because the rain reminded her of something, or maybe it was just a grown–up kind of sadness that I couldn’t quite
Chapter 103
grasp.
“Mommy, are you crying?” I asked softly, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.
She blinked, a tear rolling down her cheek and mixing with a raindrop that landed there. She wiped her face quickly, forcing another smile. “No, honey,” she lied, her voice thick with emotion. “Mommy’s eyes are just a little itchy from all the pollen.”
Even though I didn’t quite believe her, I didn’t push it. Instead, I leaned in closer, nuzzling my head against her chest. “Whenever it rains,“i whispered, my voice barely above a murmur, “I’ll think of how much I love you.”
The image faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind a bittersweet ache in its wake. The rain continued to pour outside, a relentless
curtain washing away the world.
“The hurt never goes away and even the rain cannot wash away just how hateful the world is.” Miranda whispered behind me. It was so soft, like she wasn’t even talking to me. I had almost forgotten she was even there.
I stood there for a moment, then turned around, But the room was empty.
Just like everyone else in my life, she was gone.
Simply gone.
